


I is for Insight

by GateGremlyn



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 12:51:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1227013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GateGremlyn/pseuds/GateGremlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag for "The Shroud"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I is for Insight

I is for Insight  
for [On-world Alphabet Soup](http://sg-fignewton.livejournal.com/253622.html) hosted by the ever amazing [](http://fignewton.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**fignewton**](http://fignewton.dreamwidth.org/) 

Gen, Friendship, Team,  
Maybe PG for a couple of bad words  


“Oh, my,” Daniel sputtered as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Tell me you didn't.”

“I did,” Sam said. “To a general. And me just barely out of the academy. I thought for sure I was done.”

“What did he do?”

“He said,” and Sam put down her beer bottle so she could place both hands on her hips, “he said, 'Young lady, I _may_ be wrong, but I'm a general. The only people who can tell me I'm wrong are my staff. And you aren't one of them... yet. So keep your opinions to yourself.'”

Daniel grabbed a tissue to wipe his eyes. “I can so see you as a wet-behind-the-ears lieutenant. Did you keep your opinions to yourself?”

“Well, let's say I kept them to a select group of people,” she admitted. “Okay, I've told you about a time I cried, now somebody else tell one.”

They were at the easy part of night when, lubricated with a few beers, the stories came. It was a time-honored tradition for SG-1, especially after a mission like the one they'd just had. Seeing Daniel as a Prior, knowing they'd started a war they weren't sure they could finish.... Well, it had been a rough few days.

“I cried when my son was born,” Teal'c said.

“Tears of joy,” Sam said with a nod. “I get that.”

“No, not tears of joy,” Teal'c said. “Tears of sorrow that my son would someday serve Apothis.”

“But _you_ were in the service of Apothis,” Daniel said. “Didn't you want your son to follow in your footsteps?”

“No,” was Teal'c's blunt reply.

“Well, T, that's not a problem anymore,” Jack said from his chair by the fireplace. “Ding dong, the witch is dead.” He raised his bottle in a toast. “And about time, too.” Jack had stayed at Cheyenne Mountain to brainstorm with the brass about how to defeat the Ori. Now they had nothing to do but what the military did so well: hurry up and wait. In the brief respite before the storm to come, he had dragged the old team to the cabin for a few days of peace and quiet. They flew out tomorrow.

“I've cried,” Daniel said into the stillness.

“Yeah?”

“I cried when you made two-star general.”

“Knew you were going to miss me, didcha?”

“No. I feared for the people in Washington.”

“Yeah, I get that, too.” Sam leaned forward so that she could whisper in Daniel's ear, an act that was an abysmal failure considering her state of inebriation. “I don't think you were the only one who cried over that.”

“Oh, very funny, you two. You both know that Washington needed me.”

“And that might be the scariest thing of all,” Daniel said. On his way for refills, he grabbed a handful of empties and brought them to the kitchen. “So, Jack,” he said as he passed out fresh bottles, “you haven't shared your tearful moment. Did the mess run out of pie? Did Siler hit you with his wrench?” He grinned and slid into the chair, propping his bottle on his knee.

“Perhaps he was given more forms to sign by Sergeant Harriman,” Teal'c suggested.

Sam snorted. “That would definitely make him cry. Come to think of it, it would make me cry.”

“Why?” Daniel asked. “He just gives them back and has Walter do them anyway.”

“Laugh it up, you two,” Jack said, “but my inadequate record-keeping skills have kept several people employed over the years.”

“Good point,” Daniel said. “And with that, it's time for me to head to bed.” He drained his beer and stood, a little unsteady on his feet.

They'd argued about the room assignments earlier, and Daniel had won the cot in the spare room. Teal'c had the bed and Sam the couch. Jack, as the master of the cabin, had the double bed in the main bedroom. He'd offered to give up his bed, of course. But no one would let the man paying for the food and at least part of the beer do that.

As everyone started to shuffle themselves to their spots, Sam grabbing her her sleeping bag from Daniel who had snatched it and was now playing keep away, Jack said, “I _have_ cried.”

“Yeah?” Daniel finished his tug-o-war with Sam and sat back down. “Jack, it's just a game, you don't have to--”

“When you died,” Jack said. “Ascended. Whatever. I cried then.”

“You did not!” The alcohol made Sam bold. “Not even a tear. 'Cause I watched. I cried, Teal'c cried, Janet cried, but you never even let on it even bothered you.”

The silence which they'd enjoyed for the last couple of days was no longer friendly and comfortable. Teal'c stood in the doorway; Sam hugged the sleeping bag; Daniel came to stand by Jack's chair.

When Jack finally looked up, Daniel said, “I don't think I've ever seen you cry, except maybe when you were in pain. But never for anything else. Not even when you were being tortured by Ba'al.”

“You remember that?” Sam asked in shock. “You said you didn't remember anything from when your were ascended.”

Daniel continued to stare at Jack. “Maybe it was being a prior or having Merlin's memories downloaded or something. But yeah, I remember. Not all of it,” he added, putting up a hand to forestall further questions, “but some.”

“You remembered Ry'ac,” Teal'c said. “Was that not from your time ascended?”

“I still don't know why that memory came back,” Daniel said. “Maybe the memories are jolted by trauma.”

“Having a brain dump from an Ancient wizard would be traumatic, that's for sure.” Jack rose, making Daniel step away from his chair, and tossed a pillow at Sam. “Anyway, I... wanted you to know that. God knows why.”

“Jack,” Daniel started.

“Don't make a thing of it, Daniel. I just wanted you to know. Now...” he rubbed his hands together “...who's making breakfast?”

“Why didn't you tell us, sir?” Sam asked.

Teal'c came back into the room and sat in his chair. Daniel sat on the coffee table. Jack looked around the room, defeated, before he sank back into his chair. “What did you want me to say, Carter?”

“That you cared; that you felt what the rest of us felt; that you missed him.”

“It hurt too much, I guess.” Jack shrugged his shoulders, looking not at his friends but at the floor. “I didn't know how to say it,” he added. And finally, “If I said it, it would make it real.”

“Why now?” Daniel asked quietly.

“Because I'm old, and I'm afraid one of us is going to die without getting a chance to say it. We keep dancing around the whole death thing, but sooner or later, it's going to catch up to us.” Jack picked up a bottle off the floor. “And I've had too much to drink.”

“Say what?” Daniel prodded.

“You're not really going to make me.” Jack glared at the non-Prior Daniel with the small smirk and the tired eyes.

“How often am I going to get the chance?” The smirk turned to a smile. “So what were you going to say?”

“That you made a lousy Marcel Marceau.”

“I like Marcel Marceau.” Daniel put his hands in front of him and mimed being in a box.

“What is a Marcel Marceau?” Teal'c asked.

“Not a what, a who,”Sam explained. “Marcel Marceau was a mime.” Seeing Teal'c's confusion she added, “A mime. A person who has a white face and tells a story through movement.” She turned to Jack who was still glaring at the Daniel-in-the-box. “Not to pry, but why Marcel Marceau?”

Without stopping Daniel said, “When I beamed him up to the ship, he said I looked like Marcel Marceau.”

“You two have some very weird conversations.” Sam shook her head in confusion.

“I have been to the ballet with ValaMaldoran. A mime is a dancer then.”

Teal'c's sage nod took Daniel out of his box. “No, Teal'c, not a dancer. A mime uses movement, but not rhythmic dancing. Like this.” He went back to feeling his way around the box.

“Oh, good. Daniel's in a box,” Jack said. “Somebody lock it and throw away the key.” He turned and started down the hallway to the bedrooms. “I'm not making breakfast.”

“Come on, Jack, say it.” Daniel abandoned his box and  followed as Jack made his way out of the room.

“You're a pain in the ass.”

“Thank you. But that's not what you were going to say.” Daniel was at Jack's shoulder.

“If I told you to go to hell, would that work?”

“Been there, done that.”Daniel turned himself around so that he was walking backward as he and Jack maneuvered down the hall. “Been there, done that, with you. Besides, it's never worked before, telling me to go to hell.”

“It never works to tell you anything!”

As the bickering voices faded, Teal'c looked at Sam. “Will he ever say it?”

“After 11 years?” Sam flattened out the sleeping bag before she looked down the hall. After a last “Come on, Jack!” followed by a “Have you lost what little is left of your mind?” Sam said, “I think he just did.”

~::~


End file.
